


Some Things Are Meant to Be

by TheGreatSporkWielder



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode 84, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatSporkWielder/pseuds/TheGreatSporkWielder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Lizzie's phone never rang and she'd been able to accept Darcy's invitation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Are Meant to Be

**Author's Note:**

> For Erin. =)
> 
> Thanks to **nonmodernist** on Twitter (aka Alexandra aka the transmedia editor for LBD) for the restaurant suggestion.

Lizzie stared helplessly into the depths of her closet. “I have absolutely _nothing_ to wear,” she declared. “What the hell are you supposed to wear for a night out to the theater, anyway? A _gown?”_

 

Snatching her phone from where it lay charging on the nightstand, she dialed Charlotte's number. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered frantically. She hung up, frustrated, as Charlotte's voice mail greeting started to play. “Crap, what do I do now?”

 

_Gigi could help,_ a part of her mind suggested, and Lizzie almost laughed at the thought. Because asking someone what you should wear for a night out with their brother (whom you absolutely were _not_ attracted to, nope, not at all) wasn't weird or anything.

 

As she scrolled through her contacts, her eyes landed on Jane's number, and she sighed with relief. Jane would know.

 

“Lizzie, it's so good to hear from you!” Jane said warmly as she answered the phone.

 

“Oh, thank _God,”_ Lizzie exclaimed. “I need your help.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“I'm going to the theater tonight, Jane; what do I wear?”

 

“The theater? Oh, Lizzie, that sounds so fun! Are you going with Charlotte?”

 

“Um,” Lizzie hedged. “No. I'm...” she trailed off and ran one nervous hand through her hair. _Why am I nervous, it's just--_ "Darcy. I'm going with Darcy.”

 

There was a slight squeak from Jane's end. “On a _date?”_

 

“I...yeah, I guess I am.” _I am going on a date. With William Darcy. To the theater. And I have nothing to wear. “_ And I have nothing to wear. What do you wear to these things, Jane? I don't have a gown.”

 

Jane laughed. “You don't need a _gown,_ Lizzie. Just wear that cute black dress you bought when we went to the after-Christmas sales. And that necklace Mom gave you for your birthday last year.”

 

“Okay.” Lizzie pulled the dress out of the closet and held it up to herself, turning to look into the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. “I'm just worried he'll show up in a tuxedo and I'll feel completely underdressed.”

 

“I highly doubt he'll break it off because you're not as dressed up as he is, Lizzie.”

 

“This _is_ Darcy we're talking about,” Lizzie replied as she attempted to pull the dress on without setting the phone down.

 

“He _asked_ you _out,_ Lizzie,” Jane pointed out. “I don't think even Darcy would break off a date with the woman he loves because she's not properly attired.”

 

“Shut up,” Lizzie ordered as she felt herself flush. “He doesn't love me anymore.”

 

“Of course not,” Jane agreed cheerfully. “He takes all the interns out for a night on the town.”

 

“You suck.”

 

“I love you, too, Lizzie. Now, go have a nice time. And then tell me all about it.”

 

“I'll try. And I will.”

 

Dropping the phone onto the bed, Lizzie finished pulling on the dress and adjusted the straps along her shoulders. After putting on her makeup and running a brush through her hair, she studied her reflection and frowned thoughtfully. “Well, Darcy,” she declared as she slipped on the necklace Jane had suggested, “this is as good as it's going to get. Hope you're not disappointed.”

As she slid on a pair of heels and grabbed her purse and a shawl, Lizzie purposely ignored the part of her brain that was actually worried that he might be.

 

* * *

 

Judging by the way he was looking at her, she hadn't needed to worry.

 

“You look lovely,” he said sincerely as she draped her wrap over her shoulders, and he offered her his arm. Lizzie felt her heart speed up a bit as she curled her hand along his elbow, and she could feel the warmth of his body even through his suit jacket.

 

“You don't look so bad, yourself,” she answered, and that was an understatement because he looked absolutely amazing. He _hadn't_ worn a tux, thankfully, just a very nice suit, but it had obviously been tailored to fit him and he wore a tie that made his eyes look really _really_ blue, and he'd done that thing with his hair that always made her want to run her fingers through it, and he was looking down at her as if he was willing to forget that they had plans for the evening, and all of this was really inappropriate to be thinking as they stood there on the porch, so she dropped her eyes, cleared her throat, and gestured towards his car with her free hand. “Shall we?”

 

“Of course,” he replied. He held open the car door for her (naturally), and for the twenty seconds it took for him to walk around to the driver's side, Lizzie wondered if it was still too late to back out, because there was no way that going on a date with William Darcy would lead to anything good.

 

_Well, actually,_ a part of her brain said suggestively, _it could always lead to--_

 

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, just as Darcy slid into the car next to her.

 

“I'm sorry, did you say something?” he asked, looking over at her as he put on his seat belt.

 

“No,” Lizzie replied hastily, smoothing one hand over her skirt. “Just talking to myself.”

 

“I see.” He hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering over the steering wheel, before turning to her. “If you've changed your mind, Lizzie--”

 

“No!” she interrupted, and her heart skipped a beat at the pleasantly surprised expression that flitted over his face at her vehement exclamation. “No,” she repeated, much more calmly. “I would love to go out with you tonight, Darcy. William,” she amended, and she tried not to dwell on how nice his name felt on her tongue. “Where are we going for dinner?”

 

He'd been _looking_ at her again, but at her question, he blinked and turned his attention to the car, starting it up and backing out of the driveway. “I thought we'd go to Quince.”

 

Lizzie started to object, but before she could say anything, Darcy reached over and laid a tentative hand on her wrist. “Please,” was all he said, and she was so distracted by the look in his eyes that she didn't realize she was nodding her assent until he removed his hand from her arm and returned his attention to the road.

 

Lizzie spent the entire drive there _not_ thinking about the way her wrist still burned where he'd touched her.

 

 

* * *

As Lizzie ate the best risotto that she'd ever had, Darcy, more animated than she'd ever seen him, told her all about their newest product that was just about ready for launch, called Domino; and when he paused for breath, she teased that he'd have to repeat all this for that interview they never finished, and he just shook his head as the corner of his mouth turned up. “I'm certainly not going to spend any time on your videos talking about _myself,”_ he said. “I'm afraid if you want an interview, it's going to have to be off-camera.”

 

“But I don't have anything to take notes with.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he raised his wineglass to his lips. “Then we'll just have to discuss this again sometime, won't we?” he replied, and Lizzie, for about the fifth time that evening, suddenly found her hands completely fascinating, which was better than staring at the way his fingers curled around the stem of his glass.

 

He asked her then how Charlotte was getting along, and now it was Lizzie's turn to ramble, and she was more than happy to talk about how well Charlotte was doing, and how she wanted to kill Ricky for this whole “media-free retreat” thing because she hadn't gone this long without talking to Charlotte since their fight back when Charlotte first went to work for Ricky.

 

“I envy you, you know,” he said. “Your friendship with Charlotte. I've never really had a friendship like that before.”

 

“Not even Bing or Fitz?” Lizzie asked.

 

He shook his head. “They are good friends, don't misunderstand me, but other than perhaps Gigi, I've never really had anyone I could confide in the way you confide in Charlotte.”

 

“That's too bad,” Lizzie sympathized. “We'll have to find you someone. It's nice to have someone that you can trust to be honest with you when you need it. Even if you don't always listen.”

 

“Yes,” he replied, and this time, it was his turn to drop his gaze. “I've been thinking about that lately, myself.”

 

As they finished eating, the waiter brought the check and Darcy snatched it from his hand before Lizzie could say a word. “This was my invitation,” he said, his chin tightening stubbornly.

 

“I didn't say anything,” Lizzie replied with an innocent shrug.

 

He raised a skeptical brow at her as he wordlessly slid a credit card into the leather sleeve and set it on the edge of the table. A few minutes later, as he tucked his wallet back into his coat, he slowly stood. “We should probably get going so we'll make curtain.”

 

Lizzie had almost forgotten that there was more to this date than eating amazing food and marveling at the fact that Darcy had smiled more in the last couple of hours than he had in the entire time she'd known him, but she quickly stood up. “Right,” she said, reaching for her purse and shawl.

 

“Allow me,” he said, taking the shawl from her loose grip and gently shaking it out. Lizzie slowly turned around; as Darcy slipped her wrap over her shoulders, Lizzie could feel herself flushing as she felt the pressure of his warm hands through the fabric.

 

“Thank you,” she stammered as she turned around, reaching up to slide her hair out from where it had become trapped under the cloth, letting it spill over her shoulders and down her back.

 

“You're welcome,” he replied, and rather than offer her his arm this time, he gently rested one hand in the middle of her back as the two of them left Quince. It stayed there as the valet retrieved their car, and he didn't remove it until she was sliding into the passenger seat.

 

* * *

 

Lizzie tried not to gawp like an idiot as Darcy helped her settle into her seat. “I think you've completely ruined me,” she eventually declared.

 

He blinked at her as he sat in the seat next to her. “I-I beg your pardon?”

 

She laughed slightly at his perplexed expression. “I just meant that I'll never be satisfied with the cheap, back-of-the-upper-tier seats ever again, now that I know what it's like to sit in a box.”

 

“You're welcome to use our box anytime you like,” he offered.

 

“I'll just randomly fly up for the weekend, then?” she teased.

 

“I certainly wouldn't object,” he replied, and Lizzie felt herself blushing for about the fifteenth time that evening. She decided that now would be a good time to look over her program and Darcy seemed to sense her embarrassment because out of the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to peruse his own.

 

The moment the lights went down, she forgot her embarrassment and was immediately swept away into the world unfolding before her onstage. Lizzie was fairly certain she barely breathed until intermission, when she realized that she'd been literally sitting on the edge of her seat. She leaned back in her chair and looked over at Darcy, whose unfathomable gaze was glued to her face.

 

“Sorry,” she said a bit ruefully, as she felt herself blushing _yet again,_ and she wondered if she was doomed to blush around him forever. “I just forgot how much I enjoy theater.”

 

“No need to apologize,” he replied, smiling faintly. “I find I'm rather enjoying your enthusiasm.”

 

“Go ahead and laugh,” Lizzie said, running a hand through her hair.

 

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “While I enjoy the theater as a cultural experience, I've never really been enthralled by it. Watching your reactions has made tonight's experience so much more rewarding.”

 

“I—thank you.” Lizzie wasn't quite sure what else to say.

 

Was it actually possible that he was still in love with her? Because tonight certainly seemed to imply it, but Lizzie couldn't fathom the thought that he could have made it through her video playlist with his feelings intact. At first, she'd been relieved when he told her he'd watched them because it was really awkward to know that someone you hated was in love with you, but now that she no longer hated him (and was _not_ admitting to any more than _that,_ even if she did apparently devolve into a blushing, stammering mess whenever he entered the room) she had come to realize that it might be a nice thing to be loved by someone like William Darcy, who, while proud and a bit spoiled and more than a little bit bossy, was also kind and generous and honest.

 

She was thankfully distracted from this train of thought by the lights dimming for the second act, and she pushed all thoughts of William Darcy and how he may or may not feel about her (and how she may or may not feel about _him)_ to the back of her mind. Like Scarlett O'Hara, she would think about it tomorrow.

 

But she was certainly _not_ telling Jane.

 


End file.
